Voice Over • Audiobooks

Vocal Characteristics



Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)


Irish, Irish Northern (Ulster, Belfast)


Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I forced myself to look up. I asked for nurse Brenda. I said I was there to see her on a private matter, that I wasn't a patient. The woman behind the desk said she would phone out cheque. She did not ask my name. When she spoke to whoever she spoke to, however, she said my name. This was surprising. Either word of my crime fighting exploits had spread, or she recognised me from new alibis. Or she recalled me from my time as a patient in parties burn. She looked old enough. I'm not great at remembering faces unless they are bizarre. This woman had a plane unmemorable face. There was nothing distinctive about it at all. It was bland, dull, insipid and weak. It lacked personality, distinctive angles or anything other than coherence. She had a medium sized mouth on adequate teeth. Her hair was a MOC brine, and her eyes were exactly the same. Distance apart, she said, should be done in a minute. Her vowels were flat on her accent, middle class, middle of the road, and from somewhere in the middle of the province, I had a tremendous urge to hit her with a hammer. Instead, I said Thank you. She smiled. She said, Do you remember me? I shook my head. I remember you. You were very sweet. And I remember your mother. We noted. Is she dead? Yes, I said, Sorry. She said she was certainly a force of nature. I noted a law onto herself, she added, And you're, well, perfectly. I said we noted some more. Then I shuffle to one side on to take my mind off my suicidal mother on the tiles that wanted to talk to me. I studied a small notice board. There was a poster advertising the friends of Parties burns, fundraising production of one Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I supposed It was an ironic production and liberating and inspirational I would not be attending. Not after the last charity event, when the Brittle Bone Society's production of seven brides for seven brothers had ended in bloody carnage. There were footsteps on the stairs, and nurse brand appeared smiling. She glanced across it, the woman behind the desk, and raised her eyebrows at her, which I did not much like. I was interpreting it as our saying. Thanks for calling me down to see a nutter, but I could have been mistaken. She could have Bean saying, Thank you. I am a glass half full kind of guy. I know that Allison has told me often enough, she says. I take offence where new offences intended. I took offence at her, pointing this out to me. She said I was too judgmental. I rest my case, Nurse Brenda said. You're getting to be quite a regular. Next, you'll be wanting a wee bed for the night. It was supposed to be funny and out of respect for our past relationship. I gave her a smile, but I didn't like it.